How to Wrangle a Cowboy (13 page)

“Come on, now.” She’d never noticed how deep his voice could be. Resting her head against his chest, she could feel it as well as hear it—dark, rich, and rumbling. Why was that such a comfort? She wished she could stay here and lean on him forever.

He pushed her away as if he could read her foolish mind. Gripping her arms, he gave her a stern glare. Her knees nearly gave way and the tears continued to fall.

“You’re okay,” he said. “You are. You’re fine. Look at me, Lindsey. Look at me.”

She flipped her eyes open and there he was, inches away, far too close and bigger than life.

“Breathe,” he said. “Breathe deep. You’re okay.”

His was the kind of voice you obeyed, so Lindsey breathed, but she still couldn’t stand on her own, so he pulled her close again. This time she could swear there was something more than business on his mind. His embrace felt almost tender. Caring, anyway. She drew in his warmth, savoring the comforting scent of a workingman—leather and laundry soap, hay and horses, plus a faint undertone of rust and cinnamon that must be his own unique scent as a man. Eyes closed, she breathed again, and felt his essence uncurling inside her, filling her, calming her.

Tempting her too. Beneath the business was the caring, and under that was the sexual shimmer she’d felt before. Everything about him was square and strong and masculine, from the muscular arm that circled her shoulders to the strong, stern planes of his face.

Closing her eyes, she breathed again deep and slow. He held her and breathed with her, the shared rhythm building a bond that made her feel safe, like a small boat escaping a storm. Her heartbeat slowed, and the tangle of confusion inside her began to unwind.

“Just relax,” he said. “Just breathe, and take it easy. Everything’s going to be all right.”

“Is it?”

Shane pushed her gently away and looked at her, really
looked
at her, long and hard. His eyes were as dark and deep as his voice, and she was mesmerized by her own reflection in his pupils.

“If I knew what was wrong, I could answer that.”

She simply blinked. It had been hard enough to tell Grace about Daniel. She couldn’t tell Shane. And she could never tell Bud’s secret. Never, not to anyone.

Much as she wanted to confide in Shane, she simply couldn’t.

“You didn’t expect all this, did you?” he asked. “The inheritance, I mean.”

“I didn’t expect anything. I didn’t expect Granddad to—you know.” She put a fist to her mouth, holding back another sob. “I rehearsed what I’d say to him over and over. How I’d apologize. And now…” She waved one arm at the sagebrush-dotted land that surrounded them. “What am I going to do with it?”

“I figured you’d sell it.”

“How could I? That can’t be what he wanted. But—but I might have to.” She felt her knees weaken again and looked around for something, anything, to support her. Hay bales, covered by a blue tarp, were stacked against the fence. She managed to sit down rather than fall, and felt a little better, despite the thousand worries swirling in her mind.

“What will Grace do if I have to sell? If I kept it, she could stay here.” She looked up at him, blinking away tears. “You could run it, right?”

He nodded. “I could run the ranch all right, and send you a check every quarter. Obviously it’s what would work out best for me and Cody. But you’d have to do something about Grace.”

“What do you mean, do something about her?”

“She can’t live here on her own. She’s had a good weekend, but Grace is a little—off. She gets pretty confused sometimes.”

Lindsey didn’t answer, because she didn’t want to argue, but Grace seemed fine to her. She dispensed wisdom and humor in equal portions, just as she always had.

“She can’t live on her own. Not without…” His voice trailed off, as if he couldn’t quite say Bud’s name.

Lindsey sighed. At the funeral, she’d thought Shane might be one of those con men who cozied up to elderly women to get control of their money. But now, it was obvious he truly cared about her family. He wasn’t trying to take anything away from Grace. He was just one of those old-fashioned men who thought a woman couldn’t live without a man.

Besides, now that Lindsey had inherited the ranch, the only way to gain control would be cozying up to
her.

She glanced up to see if there were any signs of impending coziness. He was still watching her, his eyes searching hers as if he could read her thoughts. She thought maybe the cozying was about to begin, but he looked more annoyed than adoring.

“You okay now?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

She wished, suddenly, that she could confide in this man. If only her little boat could drop anchor in his smooth, protected waters. She longed to rely on him, trust him, and live in the protective circle of his arms a little longer.

But she barely knew him. And she’d sworn, after her disastrous marriage, that she’d never again let a man run her life.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Sorry I lost it for a minute there.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

And just like that, he’d flipped the switch, going from caring friend to hard-eyed stranger in the blink of an eye. She wondered what made him that way. What went on under that broad-brimmed hat?

As he turned away to squint at the horizon, she looked him up and down and reframed the question.

What went on under those Wranglers?

There were times when, despite all her issues, her vows and decisions, she surely wanted to know Shane Lockhart a whole lot better.

Chapter 16

Lindsey rose and rested her arms on the top rail of the corral. Looking out over the endless pastures of the Lazy Q, she was struck by a sudden inspiration.

“Did Bud own the ranch free and clear? No mortgage?”

He nodded. She could see mistrust burning in his dark eyes, like a banked fire gleaming out from under dark coals. He was thinking she was all about money again, but she didn’t care what he thought. She needed to solve her problem, for Grace’s sake.

“What are the cattle worth? If we sold them right now?”

He named a figure that took her breath away.

She could pay off William Ward and have money left over. Money that could go toward the animal sanctuary she’d always wanted. Sure, that was a crazy childhood dream, but if there was no mortgage on the ranch, it could work. Maybe her dreams were within reach after all.

Shane snorted. “We’d be fools to take it. They’ll be worth twice that in three months.”

She turned, leaning her back against the fence and shoving her hands in her pockets.

“I don’t
have
three months.” She stared down at her boots. “If I’m going to keep the ranch, I need to get some cash together now.”

“What?” He stood, resting one hand on the top rail as if he could barely stand. “You just inherited a multimillion-dollar ranch and you need
more
? What the hell for?”

She gave him a cool stare. It wasn’t easy; his anger loomed over her like a thundercloud, ready to burst open with lighting and slashing rain. But she had her own anger, and it was rising too. When the two storms clashed—as they were about to do—it would be a sight to see.

She drew herself up to her full height. It wasn’t much, but that and her dignity were all she had. “That’s not really your concern. All you need to know is that I’m definitely considering a sale. In fact, it’s my number one option right now.”

He slowly raised a fist, then dropped it. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and she couldn’t help swooning a little at the power he was holding in check.

Swooning
. She wanted to smack herself. She’d had fantasies about Shane Lockhart from the first time she’d seen him, and not just sexual ones. That would have been understandable, but she’d also had rescue fantasies, where he swept her up onto his horse like a black-hatted outlaw in an old dime novel. He’d set her on the saddle in front of him and carry her off to his cabin, where he’d—

The real-life Shane interrupted her fantasy with a brutal truth. “You can’t sell the cattle. They support the ranch.”

He had a point. At first, they’d need some sort of income to keep the sanctuary going until she had time to secure grants and collect donations. The cattle-raising end of the operation would provide that support, and she didn’t see how she’d succeed without it.

But if selling the herd was what it took to keep Grace in her home, then it would have to be done. She’d figure the rest out later.

He was still staring her down. “What exactly do you plan to do with the ranch, anyway? You don’t have some harebrained scheme to raise llamas or something, do you?”

“No.” She decided she’d better keep her sanctuary idea to herself for now. “I’m not sure, actually. I’d just like to keep Grace in her home. Whatever it takes.”

“I guess that’s what really matters.” He had the good grace to look a little ashamed. “But just so you know, the cattle are essential. There are taxes to be paid, maintenance, all sorts of expenses.”

She shrugged, faking nonchalance. “Maybe we could lease some land, or maybe, if we kept just a few prime breeders, we could start over. You’re the ranch manager. Shouldn’t
you
be telling
me
?”

“I
am
telling you.” He resumed his pacing, his boots leaving sharp gashes where they bit into the soil. “Selling the cattle would tell everyone, loud and clear, the place is in trouble. Everybody would know that either you need the money, or you’re a fool who doesn’t know a heifer from a bull calf. Or both.”

She shrugged one shoulder, deliberately casual. “Fine with me. I
am
desperate, and I don’t know much about cattle either.” She flushed. “Although I do know how to sex calves.”

Stepping close, he set his hands on the fence rail, one on each side of her. The move hemmed her in and brought him dangerously, deliciously close.

She widened her eyes in alarm. What had she done to deserve this? Was he so testosterone-loaded that the mere mention of sex—even in the context of baby cows—was some sort of turn-on?

He looked down at her, narrowing his eyes, and spoke in a low tone as cold as the hiss of a snake. “Can’t you wait three months to get your hands on your inheritance?”

Once again, she’d mistaken anger for passion. Shane Lockhart just confused her, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She’d been struggling to keep her emotions at bay ever since she’d broken down, but now her eyes glossed with tears until she could barely see his face. When the first tear fell, she felt him soften and relent.

“Oh, come on, now. Don’t cry. Not again. You cry too much, dammit.”

He swiped away a tear with the back of his hand. His rough words felt surprisingly gentle, and the sudden kindness was such a surprise, she didn’t know how to respond. Not that it mattered if she knew or not, because she simply
couldn’t
respond. The tears were flowing freely now.

“What’s the matter?” His voice was hoarse—with emotion? Nerves? She couldn’t tell. He sounded desperate, exasperated, and pleading, all at once.

She shook her head and a strand came loose from her ponytail, falling across her face. He swept it away with a touch so soft it felt like a caress.

She looked up to see those outlaw eyes, hard and dark, still fixed on hers. His sensuous mouth had been tamed by self-discipline into a thin, expressionless line, echoing the architecture of his face—high cheekbones, dark skin, a strong, jutting jaw. She had a sudden urge to kiss him, to force that mouth to soften against her own.

But that would be reckless, and she wasn’t the reckless type. Tearing her gaze from his face, she unclasped her barrette and refastened it, tucking in the errant strand as if he wasn’t just inches away.

He watched every move.

She fumbled the clasp and her hair came loose again, falling around her shoulders in disarray as the barrette fell to the ground.

Ignoring the fallen clasp, Lockhart took her hair in his hands, stroking it back from her face. His touch was gentle, but his eyes held a hunger that was barely in check. He looked like a wolf who’d found something helpless and pretty he wanted to take for his own.

Well, she might be pretty, but she wasn’t helpless. She ruled her own life, made her own decisions.

And right now, she’d decided to kiss Shane Lockhart.

His lips met hers, hard and strong and forceful, and she let out a surprised little squeak. She’d planned on a gentle, getting-to-know you kiss, but this was the wolf sating his hunger and staking a claim.

Okay with her; she had her own hunger to satisfy. His taste, his touch, the way his lips slipped across her own and his tongue probed and searched—it dazzled her to dizziness. She’d never felt this kind of give and take before, never matched a man’s passion with her own. She hadn’t known she had this kind of need inside her. Twisting her body against his, she wished she could climb inside him somehow, become one with this man who filled her empty places and answered the questions she’d never dared ask about herself, about her desperate needs and deepest desires.

Surprised by her response, he pulled back, his eyes again probing hers. She gave him a long, level look, releasing just a little of the smoldering heat that was brewing inside her. With a groan of resignation, he nested his hands in the hair at the back of her neck and kissed her again.

That groan made her smile inside. She wasn’t a helpless pioneer lass to be scooped up and rescued after all. She was a modern woman made powerful by her own sexuality, a woman who knew what she wanted and took it. Shane might think this kiss had been his idea, but she’d taken it, as surely as if she’d been the one pushing him up against the fence.

He cradled her head in both his hands and gentled his touch, searching, questioning. She answered with questions of her own, and again he moaned, pressing his mouth to hers, then kissing his way across her jaw and down the column of her neck. Tugging at her shirt, he tongued the hollow between the wings of her collarbone.

He’d found her weakness. She tossed her head back, loving the feeling of his tongue, his lips, his hands. His teeth nipped at her neck, grazing her throat, and she loved that too. The sun warmed her face, and she closed her eyes so she could savor his touch without distractions.